


Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

by amaliabalash



Category: She Loves Me - Bock/Harnick/Masteroff
Genre: F/M, yet another alternate way to get together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaliabalash/pseuds/amaliabalash
Summary: Amalia ends up seated next to Georg at a production of Much Ado About Nothing.
Relationships: Amalia Balash/Georg Nowack
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post from tadpal: https://tadpal.tumblr.com/post/621196975271985152/literally-no-one-writes-she-loves-me-fanfic
> 
> Thank you improbablefiction for beta-ing! And thanks to tadpal for the post because I actually felt inspired to write something for the first time in like two years!
> 
> (also, to readers who know my work, I used to be huffellepuff on here but have decided to get rid of HP associations given...you know, everything).

Theatre had always been an escape for Amalia - almost as soon as she entered a theatre, all of her troubles seemed to melt away. And with the way things had been at work lately, knowing she’d be seeing the words of Shakespeare live in front of her tonight had been one of her few lifelines. What she could not have possibly anticipated was that she would find her troubles seated next to her.

“Oh, no,” she groaned, unable to help herself as the usher pointed her towards the seat directly beside Mr. Nowack.

He looked up, his face going from placid curiosity to horror the moment he saw her.

“Mr. Nowack,” she said curtly as she took her seat.

“Miss Balash, what on earth are you doing here?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m just here to ruin your night of course. You do know I live to torture you, right?” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m here for the play, the same as you are.”

He glared at her. “Ha, very funny. I just didn’t take you for a lover of Shakespeare, I suppose.”

“I happen to have a strong appreciation for the arts. Now, if you could be quiet, I’d rather prefer to imagine I’m sitting here alone, reading my playbill, like I had planned.”

She lifted her playbill and tried to focus on it, but was practically seething over the nerve of the man next to her. What did he mean, that he didn’t take her for a Shakespeare lover? Did he believe her to be below such things? That only he could be cultured enough to appreciate Shakespeare? How infuriating, that he would make such assumptions!

She turned back towards him. “I must confess, Mr. Nowack, I am also surprised to see _you_. I didn’t think you were the type to enjoy the theatre, as I do believe it requires a heart and a soul.”

He scoffed. “Miss Balash, I believe that, for the first time, you may have been right about something. We will be far better off tonight if we merely pretend that we’re strangers, and ignore each other.”

She returned her focus to her playbill, hoping he didn’t see the flush that his words brought to her cheeks. She shouldn’t have given in to his bait, and now he clearly felt like he’d won the argument. And unfortunately, he was right. The only hope she had of enjoying her evening was to stay focused on the performance.

\---

And for the first half of the show, she managed to do so quite well. Even with your enemy sitting next to you, it is difficult not to get lost in the poetry of Shakespeare’s words, the sharp wit, and the drama unfolding before you-- especially with Much Ado About Nothing, which was one of her very favorites. She’d always found Beatrice to be an especially fascinating character - so much confidence and bravado hiding such a deep sense of longing and hurt. It was alarmingly familiar. Even so, watching her walls come down through such humorous means was always a delight, even while her heart was simultaneously breaking for Hero. 

As the curtains went down for intermission, she sighed happily. Her pleasant fog lifted, though, as Mr. Nowack cleared his throat beside her and she was reminded of his presence. With absolutely no intention of actually doing so, but rather like the fates were pulling her into his argumentative orbit, she turned to him and asked, “So, Mr. Nowack, was the performance to your liking?”

He looked surprised at her addressing him with such a civil question. “Why, yes, of course. This is possibly my favorite of Shakespeare’s comedies. Honestly, it is among my favorites of all of his works.”

“Really? And why is that?” she asked, genuinely curious but unable to keep the bite out of her tone.

“If you have to ask, perhaps I am not the one lacking the heart and soul.” 

“That didn’t answer my question.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. I appreciate the romance of the story, the longing that underlies the antagonism between Beatrice and Benedick. The humor and wit is of course delightful, but the idea that these two find each other despite every barrier they put up for themselves is wonderful.”

She was taken aback by the honesty in his response, and how closely it matched her own feelings. Not that she could actually _say_ that to him. She probably was misunderstanding his point, anyway. Surely that was the case. “Are you suggesting that Beatrice and Benedick are not truly in love, but are merely covering up their general longing for love?” 

“Of course not. Is that what _you_ believe? I should’ve guessed as much, that you could take the romance out of it and assume it to be a matter of convenience, not love.”

“That is most certainly _not_ how I view their story. I am very much a romantic, Mr. Nowack. I was concerned that that was what you were getting at with your answer.”

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Why would it concern you if I were to misinterpret the play?” “Well, your comprehension levels _do_ affect me at work, and if you had completely missed the fact that Beatrice had declined Don Pedro’s proposal, a man she did not show disdain for, and therefore should have accepted had she merely been looking for _any_ kind of love, it would have explained a lot about how you operate at Maraczek’s.” 

“My comprehension levels are perfectly fine. For example, I can comprehend that you are routinely late and have trouble following simple directions.” 

“I am perfectly capable of following directions when they are given by someone competent, thank you very much. And this is all besides the point - we were talking about the _play_ , not about work.”

“ _You_ were the one who brought up Maraczek’s, Miss Balash, not me. What are _your_ thoughts on Much Ado?”

“My thoughts? Well, it happens to also be one of my favorites. I find Beatrice and Benedick to be one of Shakespeare’s healthiest romantic relationships, oddly enough. It would have been so easy for Beatrice to be another character like Katherina in the Taming of the Shrew, a woman unliked by all and so-called tamed by a rather unlikeable man. But instead, she is loved by many and she doesn’t find her match in a win or lose sense, but in a partner sense. Everything they do is well-matched passion, whether it be arguing, love, or denial.”

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, and she felt completely exposed. She hadn’t really meant to speak so honestly, but it was hard to refrain when it was something she cared so much about. There was a strange tension in the air, different than the one that usually existed between them.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if to clear it. “I have to disagree with you there. I don’t believe that they are passionate about arguing, but that their arguing is a _symptom_ of their passion and love for each other. They both have strengths, but are terrified of vulnerability, and the way that they’re drawn together is obviously too much for them to handle, so it’s all channeled into vitriol to cover up attraction.”

“I never said that they were passionate about arguing. I actually _agree_ with your statement, shockingly enough. I think they both have a lot of bravado that is covering up hurt and fear. We never do find out exactly what happened with them in the past. But, now that I’m talking about it, I believe they also enjoy the arguments. Better to have some kind of connection than none, even when the theoretical aim of the teasing is to push one another away.”

“If teasing be the food of love, play on?” he said, smirking.

That surprised a laugh out of her. “Wrong play, Mr. Nowack.”

“Really though, it makes sense that you enjoy arguing, Miss Balash. It explains a lot.”

Whatever sense of camaraderie that had been building quickly disappeared, as her anger took over.

“Excuse me? If you are implying that I am trying to woo you, Mr. Nowack, you are gravely mistaken. Unlike Beatrice, I suffer no love for you,” she snapped.

“Of - of course not!” he sputtered, horrified. “I would never suggest that a woman like you is even capable of such an emotion.”

She looked down at her watch, hoping to hide the blush creeping up her face at this entire conversation. No, not blush. Just flush with anger. “It seems that intermission is about over, as is this conversation.”

She once again turned her attention to the playbill, trying resolutely to ignore both the man beside her and the uncomfortable feelings brought on by their conversation.

\---

Amalia did not enjoy the second half of the play the way that she had hoped to. She couldn’t get that cursed man out of her head, and every sweet moment between the lovers on stage made her acutely aware of the similarities to her own situation. She certainly was not in love with _Georg Nowack_ , of all people. She was in love with Dear Friend, someone with whom she was entirely compatible. Anything they disagreed on was handled with curiosity and respect for the others’ opinion, not complete disdain like the way Mr. Nowack responded to her. 

But...maybe she _did_ incite some of the disputes, and maybe she enjoyed arguing with him. Not out of a sense of passion or love, but just because it was fun to rile him up. And he looked rather cute when so disheveled that that little curl fell onto his forehead, and….no, what was she thinking? She didn’t find him _attractive_ , did she? Passable looking, sure, but…

Damn. She did have to admit to herself, that first day at Maraczek’s, she was drawn to him. But then he was so awful! It’s no wonder she responded in kind. And she’s been attracted to plenty of men without them making her want to scream, so this was not exactly her typical way of responding. No, there was just something about Mr. Nowack that made her a little bit crazy.

Honestly, this train of thought wasn’t even worth her time! It didn’t matter if she argued with her handsome colleague sometimes. She had a love, and one she would be meeting soon, and everything else was incidental.

Though...what if Mr. Nowack had brought it up because _he_ felt that way about her? That would certainly make things uncomfortable at work. Well, even more so. No matter how much she disliked him - and she _did_ dislike him, appreciation for a good love story aside - she would hate to mislead him. No one deserved to have their emotions toyed with that way. 

She snuck a glance at him, and found that he had already been looking at her. Her eyes shot back to the stage. How _mortifying_. But also, it suggested that her suspicion was correct - maybe he _did_ have feelings for her. She needed to get out of here and away from him as fast as possible.

As soon as the performers finished their bows, she stood and began to head for the exit. From this point forward, she would do her best to ignore Mr. Nowack at work, rather than even possibly give him the wrong idea about her feelings toward him. Complete indifference would be the plan.

“Miss Balash?” she heard him call from behind her as soon as she entered the lobby. So much for that plan.

She stopped and turned towards him, trying not to look agitated. “Yes?”

“You forgot your bag,” he said, holding her clutch out to her.

“Oh. Well, thank you.” As she grabbed the bag, his hand brushed against hers, and she immediately felt a spark. This was certainly not the first time they’d accidentally touched, and she never felt that way before. Her mind was playing tricks on her, obviously. “I hope you enjoyed the show, Mr. Nowack.” 

“I did. Though I was admittedly somewhat distracted.”

“Oh?” she said, her voice small as she braced herself. What if he said something about feelings _now_?

“Yes, it is rather difficult to focus when someone keeps _looking_ at you,” he said, smiling smugly. “It is considered rude to stare, Miss Balash.”

“You think _I_ was staring? I only ever looked at you when I felt your gaze upon _me_.” While that wasn’t strictly the whole truth, she had noticed him looking at her more than once, and she had _not_ been staring.

“I was not _gazing_ at you! I - “ he started, before stopping and taking a breath. “My point is, I just wanted to let you know, because of her earlier conversation, that if you do harbor any romantic feelings towards me -”

She scoffed. “As I stated earlier, I mostly certainly do _not_. But if _you_ happen to be trying to woo through argument, I am not interested, as my affections are otherwise engaged.”

“As are mine!”

“Oh really Mr. Nowack, there’s no need to cover -” 

“I’m not! I have been corresponding with a lovely woman for many months now, and -”

“Are you part of a lonely hearts club?” she asked. She didn’t mean to sound so skeptical, she certainly had no place to judge, but it had surprised her.

“Why, yes, I am. Do you have something against lonely hearts clubs, Miss Balash?”

“No, of course not! I’m just...surprised. I didn’t take you for the type.”

“Well, for your information, I am the type. And I am quite in love with Dear Friend, the woman I’ve been corresponding with. We have the same interests in art and music and reading, and she has such a kind soul. I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to relate.”

She froze as his words sunk in. “Did...did you say Dear Friend?”

“Yes…” 

“And by chance, does your post office box happen to be number 1203?” 

“How on earth would you know that?”

And that was all of the confirmation she needed. It felt impossible, but it seemed that Mr. Nowack was Dear Friend. And instead of feeling heartbroken, like she would have expected, she started to giggle. 

He looked at her, clearly stuck somewhere between baffled and enraged. “And what exactly is so funny about that?”

She tried to control herself long enough to speak, but her giggles progressed to full body laughter, and she leaned against the wall for support.

“We are such fools,” she managed to say, though it came out as a bit of wheeze. 

“What...what are you talking about?” he asked, a wary smile on his face

“It’s…” she said, taking a steadying breath but only managing to bring herself back down to giggling. “It’s so absurd, Mr. Nowack, but I believe you’re talking about me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m Dear Friend.” 

“No, you can’t be,” he said, chuckling uncomfortably. 

“Oh, but I am. Dear Friend. Box 1433. You’re looking at her.” Another wave of laughter hit her as she thought even more about the absurdity of the situation.

He looked at her disbelievingly for a moment, before bursting out in laughter, having caught her manic fit. Soon, they were both propped against the wall, leaning shoulder to shoulder for support. 

She wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, laughing and drawing concerned gazes from the other patrons in the lobby, before their laughter started to subside and the gravity of the situation began to sink in.

“Well then,” she said, standing up straight and breaking their physical contact as their breathing returned to normal.

He looked at her, expression inscrutable. “You really are Dear Friend, aren’t you?”

“It seems that way.” They stared at each other, uncertain of where to go from here. As unimaginable as the idea was to her before this evening, suddenly, it seemed to make sense. _Of course_ he was Dear Friend. Georg Nowack was the man she loved and she was shocked by just how warm the idea made her feel, how _right_ it was. And he loved her! At least, he thought he had. But now... “Are you...are you terribly disappointed, Mr. Nowack?”

He shook his head. 

“I do love nothing in this world so well as you, is that not strange?” he said, a tentative smile on his face.

She laughed, relief flooding her. “And I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.”

He grinned at her, and she wondered how she ever could have denied just how handsome he was.

“Miss Balash, would you do the honor of accompanying me to dinner? I think we’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

“Mr. Nowack, I would like nothing more.” 


End file.
